Wishing for Brass to be Glass

Sometimes I wish my face was glass.
Clear, crystal to be exact,
So someone, anyone, could peer inside of my mind,
Without my knowing,
If only for just one moment.

And in the moment,
I would not be able to hide,
Oh God, I pray for that moment to arrive
Because in that brief frame of time,
An idea would chime

And it would ring,
Becoming louder and louder as
Time passed by.
And that idea would sing,
“Unravel the story
That is Aleah Louise B.”

But that takes too much time to most,
For “patience is a virtue”,
But near impossible.

So why try?
It’s easier to wear masks,
But I still yearn for someone to come
And break the glass
In anyway,
Because it means my release.

So if you must know,
I do pray
For someone to come one day
And toss pebbles at my face,
To help me escape this maze,
That I have so ungracefully made.

And I, so frequently pray,
That they will,
One day,
Throw a stone that weighs
Enough to break the glass
That composes my face

Thus seeing the disarray
Of my mind on display.
Because, as Brandi Carlile beautifully said,
“All of my friends think I’m blessed,
They don’t know that my head is a mess.
No, they don’t know who I really am”

So forever I wait,
Imprisoned by my metal gate
Constantly praying, that one day,
My mask of red brass
Will be replaced with glass.





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